


The Worst Day in the Life of Martin Crieff

by Meon



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meon/pseuds/Meon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin has the worst day in ages. His coworkers don't care much until they see him jump off a bridge. But sometimes things aren't exactly as bad as they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this some time ago for the Cabin Pressure fans on tumblr after musical inspiration. Sadly, this hasn't been beta-ed or brit-picked so please bear with me, I am doing my best with my second language.

It had been a shit day for Martin.

And with that, a day that was worse than usual. Martin had never been the boy with the good luck, and sadly, when something good happened to him, he could expect everything to turn out badly. 

But today had been the worst day of his year, Douglas was sure of that. He knew Martin well enough to look behind the more or less professional facial expressions while flying GERTI. Usually, flying a plane was the greatest thing on the planet that could happen to Martin Crieff, but today, even this was not enough to lighten his mood.

And Douglas had to admit, he felt a bit sorry for his Captain, not that he would ever admit it, of course.

But seeing Martin Crieff jump off a bridge was something he didn’t even expect after the worst day of the year. It certainly didn’t help either, that it was on the bridge he had to cross while driving Carolyn and Arthur home, his colleagues robbed off their car, who both reacted very much like Douglas when they saw their Captain jumping the balustrade, stepping on it mid-jump to catapult himself off it into the air. Time seemed to freeze for a moment when he could hear the faint noises of Carolyn yelling “Martin!” and Arthur shouting “Skip” at the same time and Martin was still in the air and there was still time and suddenly he was out of the car, ignoring the honks of the cars who cared more about Douglas’ Lexus blocking the street than the fact that a man had just jumped off the bridge.

Arthur’s and Carolyn’s footsteps followed him and then he was at the balustrade hanging over it looking down onto the cold dark water only seeing a few waves, evidences of a body being dropped into the river just now. But no trace of Martin whatsoever. Arthur almost hauled himself after the lanky pilot still calling out for him even though it was obvious, that even if Martin would be listening to them, hearing Arthur now was almost impossible. Water would clog his ears and suddenly Douglas thought of the embarrassing refresher course in Ipswich. Martin probably didn’t put in earplugs before he jumped into the ice cold water, which meant that the chance of him blacking out was dangerously high.

A few bubbles surfaced on the dirty water and Douglas started to run again, along the bridge towards the little flight of stairs on the waterside, almost flying them down towards the river bank. Maybe they could still get him out of the water. Jumping after him was no option, the water was freezing and too deep, but maybe they could pull the idiot out of it, smacking whatever kind of idea that made him do this out of his head.

Because really, it might be the worst day in the life of Martin Crieff, but there was no way it was that bad. Right?

  



	2. Chapter 1

Douglas had known it would be a bad day for Martin when he had arrived at the portacabin, about fifty minutes late mind you and walked in to a rather flustered and annoyed Martin huffing into his phone. Whoever was on the other side, he was loud enough for Douglas to catch some words, especially the “useless piece of shit” was quite well to understand, he didn’t even have to look at Martin’s face to know that he was flinching and a flash of hurt crossed his features.

It wasn’t very hard to find out who was on the other end of the phone, even though it sounded a bit tricky to narrow down the number of people who had been cross with Martin in his life till now. There were only two people he argued with on frequent terms, one of them being Douglas, even though he hoped to claim that their arguments were on a less hurtful base and his brother Simon. Simon Crieff, the perfect son with a big business in London and the perfect novel-like wife-and-two-kids-yes-of-course-boy-and-a-girl family. Simon who did indeed inherit something better from his father than a rotten old van, Simon who kept calling Martin only to point out how perfect his own life was and what a loser Martin was, having a job that wasn’t paid, working for the little old lady and being a big joke in general. Martin always said that he long stopped caring about what his family thought of him but the crew just knew that this wasn’t quite true. One does always hope being accepted by their families and even if they are over the fact that their families are not accepting of how one’s life is developing, it didn’t mean that it would never hurt again. And Simon had just hurt Martin, badly.

The red haired Captain finally hung up and stared at his phone for a split second, a lost feeling stuck in his eyes before he shook himself out of it, determined to ignore any of Douglas’ comments about what just happened. Instead he pulled out a file with new safety demonstrations and Douglas, even though he was sighing heavily and really not in the mood for eager talk about boring subjects like oxygen masks, he decided to keep quiet about the phone call. Families tended to cause a lot of trouble and sometimes it was the best to just forget about it.

The customers of that day were a young rich couple. They were unsatisfied with everything, from the state of the plane over the food and the worst of all was the cheeriness of the Stewart. Carolyn did everything not to snap and strangle both, especially since they really paid very well and way too much for a plane like GERTI. When they wanted to see the flight deck Martin spent ten minutes, knuckles white, hands clasped around the controls while trying to block out the voice of the rich brat who laughed way too long and way too loud about the fact that “the little man in the little plane” was supposed to be an actual Captain. Douglas was sure he could hear Martin’s teeth grind against each other when the obnoxious passenger mentioned, that being a Captain of MJN air was probably compared to a “real airline” less than being a Stewart. 

Carolyn came back and threw the guy out of the flight deck, with her customer smile and friendly but icy tone. 

“Oh, and Martin, about your ridiculous question for payment yesterday evening-“

“Carolyn, not now please”, Martin did his best to keep his voice steady but there was still a slight waver in it as if he was about to crack, or close to breaking down crying, whatever came first.

Carolyn lifted an eyebrow and continued, ignoring the almost audible protest of her Captain: “I just wanted to say that I still can’t afford-“

“Yes, thank you Carolyn”. His voice sounded so strained that one could believe his vocal chords were close to ripping apart.

\--

“I had asked her for a salary, again. And she just says no as if it was nothing.”

“Oh, _Martin_.” 

“Douglas just-...” there was a pause where Martin sighed deeply and his shoulders dropped. He closed his eyes to rub a hand over his face and then throw a disappointed look at the sky as if it, usually the recipient of Martin’s lovingly stares, was to blame for this day. 

“Leave it.”

“Fine”. Douglas was not entirely sure if this was the best decision but he decided to drop the subject and instead started: “Simon says...” but was interrupted by a squeak coming from his Captain. He looked pale and Douglas wondered if Simon had brought up any other topic like for an instance the inheritance the Martin and his siblings got from the old Mr. Crieff. Being reminded of his father’s death and the fact that he never managed to make him proud as long as he lived was something Martin’s day shouldn’t start with but did. Douglas decided that the name “Simon” was not the best start of distraction and instead invented a new word game: “Family names that would sound good as a dish”, “Wellington” was already out.

Martin did lose the culinary word game and the whole cheese tray to Douglas, which didn’t help at all to lighten his mood. 

As soon as the horrible customers were more or less kicked off the plane by Carolyn and friendly waved off by Arthur, Martin didn’t want anything else but do his log in silence and then go home and sleep until some nicer day came around. None of the crew was in the mood to spend any more time together so they called it a day and waved their goodbyes. Martin, who was lately saving money by walking to the airfield from his home and back because the van was a gluttonous monster when it came to filling it with petrol, made his way home alone while Douglas ended up with Carolyn and Arthur in his car because it turned out that Carolyn’s car was in a bad mood as well and refused to start. It took some pretty heave negotiations because Douglas wanted a quid-pro-quo in return which Carolyn refused to offer since Douglas was her employee. Douglas pointed out that he was only her employee when flying an aeroplane and now when driving a car. While they still fought, Martin was on his way home.


	3. Chapter 2

It had been a really bad day and all he wanted was getting home, taking a shower, maybe a bit of toast and then sleep until the next day. It couldn’t be this bad tomorrow, maybe some bad things would happen but not that many at once. He crossed the bridge the students at his home kept calling “the stick” because it was small and old and it started to waggle suspiciously when a truck drove over it. Martin noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye down at the small river he had to cross and noticed a kid, too far away to make out if it was a boy or a girl playing with a cardboard box close to the water, apparently trying to make a boat out of it. The airdot captain was suddenly reminded of another small kid, playing with cardboard boxes in the garden of his parents, dreaming himself into the flight deck of a fighter plane fighting the red baron and other evil chums, clutching to the edges of the box when his enemies’ attacks made his plane twist and turn in the sky but never fall out of it. Well he did fall out of the box several times but that didn’t lower his spirits. 

The fond memory helped a bit to blend out the uneasiness the day had left behind and Martin looked down again, a small smile on his face now. The smile dropped again when he realized that the cardboard box was now in the middle of the river, carrying a small passenger who paddled through the water with his or her hands, oblivious to the fact that the “boat” was getting soggy and slowly filled with water. Another moment and the boat – it wasn’t even a boat, it was a damn box for heaven’s sake! – dropped underwater, pulling the small passenger with it.

Martin froze, staring at the small bubbles on the surface of the water, the only witness speaking of the small human being that just vanished into the dark water. The kid was not resurfacing. How incredibly reckless does a kid have to be to throw itself into a river with only a cardboard box as a boat? Why did nobody ever tell the kid about the danger this idea could hold? Why was he still standing there?

Martin didn’t notice that he had dropped his overnight bag and almost hauled himself over the balustrade. The child was really not coming back up. Not even a hand batting through the surface of the water. _It will drown_.

Martin took a step back. Then another. He had never been the guy who was very good at running or jumping in general. Heavy lifting, maybe, but that was just a job. But still, there was no way he would be quick enough to run along the bridge and down the steps to the riverside. His feet started moving before he could even think about it.

When he launched himself over the balustrade he congratulated himself for the jump for a split second. How surprising that he didn’t manage to get his foot stuck on the edge of it and fall headfirst into the water. Seconds before he hit it he clutched his hand around his nose and closed his eyes.

The water was cold. Really uncomfortably damn cold. It made him want to gasp, reminding him how short his air supply was. _It would be typical if you drowned trying to help somebody who is drowning. Would be just your luck. Martin Crieff, the world’s most incompetent pilot_ and _superhero._

Still, he was underwater and he could see the kid trashing about not that far from him. The cardboard box had vanished somewhere into the dark and the boy – it was a boy, now that he got a closer look – was fighting to get towards the surface. Martin shook his head to get rid of all the thoughts and doubts and self-consciousness about heroic deeds and brought himself towards the child with a few strokes through the water. The boy turned around and saw him and before Martin could even make a calming gesture the child’s small hands had clutched his sleeve and then held tightly onto his arm. Martin really had trouble holding his breath now and started kicking water, wrapping his arms as well as he could around the child. He wouldn’t make it. His ears popped and he knew that water would get into them. If he blacked out before he reached the surface...

He kicked out again. Trying to get rid of the voices. He would make it, he _had to_ make it. There was no way he would let the little kid drown, this was no CPL test or instrument rating he could take over again and again and again, he had one chance and only one chance.

When his head broke through the surface of the river he gasped not only for air but also out of shock. The air outside was even colder than the water. He suddenly realized that he was shivering and all he could do was take a deep breath before the weight of the boy pulled him underwater again. He grabbed the kid and basically threw him through the surface, trying to keep at least his head above the water. A few kicks more and he got another lung full of air, trying to steer both of them closer to the riverbank, blindly kicking into the water and hoping he would reach the ground somehow. The boy clawed at his shoulders and he really hoped, _begged_ that at least the kid would make it.

He was about to think that he would never make it, sinking and resurfacing while he tried to fight his way out of the water _somehow_. 

Finally, his shoulder hit something solid. _A rock? Don’t let it be some dumb rock in the river or a pillar or something. Please let it be the bank, he needed to get the kid out alive-_

Fingers, strong fingers, bigger than the ones of the kid closed around his arm. Not really noticing what was going on, he clutched to the kid as he felt the boy was slipping away. Something tried to rip him out of his arms – _the river? –_ and there was no way he would let go _now_ , now that he almost made it. He shook his head to get rid of the buzzing in his ears and coughed when a wave hit him in the face, water getting into his mouth and nose and running down his throat. God that tasted awful and the water was getting into the way of his breathing and he felt more coughs shaking through his body. Suddenly, the kid was gone. He felt really cold when he noticed. _Oh God, it is true, I can’t manage to do anything without messing it up._


	4. Chapter 3

Douglas might or might not have prayed until the moment Martin’s head broke through the surface of the water, gulping in the fresh air greedily, but he certainly was at a point where he repeated “please come up again please come up again” in his head over and over again, not that he would ever admit to it, obviously. When he saw a little head close to Martin’s shoulder, topped with a mess of drenched blonde hair he stopped in his tracks. He could hear Arthur call out for Martin behind him and Carolyn’s breathless “it’s a child, there is a child in the water!” but his brain didn’t seem to comprehend. When Arthur rushed past him and threw himself on the ground, flat on his belly to reach down into the water where Martin was scrambling towards them he finale unfroze and ran after him. Martin didn’t seem to notice either of them, he was busy keeping the boy’s head over the water and when his shoulder hit the riverbank, Douglas reached out and gripped his Captain’s arm. The boy was looking up at them coughing but his eyes were open and he reached for Arthur’s outstretched arms, still clutched in Martin’s embrace. 

Tiny hands grabbed Arthur’s and he pulled the boy towards him and out of the water, leaving Martin to blindly reach out for the child and throwing himself around, clearly panicking. 

“Martin, calm down, we got him, everything is fine!”

But Martin didn’t seem to hear Douglas or even notice him, he was whipping his head around and clearly about to get underwater and dive again when Arthur finally came back. 

Pulling Martin out of the water was harder than it seemed, because the man kept thrashing about and tried to get away from the people who pulled him out of the water.

They both almost fell over when they pulled Martin over the patch of grass, trying to get the pilot to focus on their faces while he was still coughing up water. He still didn’t seem to notice them, but at least he was breathing more normally, at least for somebody who just almost drowned. His hands flew up to his ears, subconsciously rubbing them, probably water had gotten into them but at least he was not blacking out.

Martin gasped for air and coughed and shivered and spat to get the awful taste of the water off his tongue and he whipped his head around to look at the boy, who was on his back, too, now, as if mirroring Martin and he was breathing and slightly sobbing and shivering but oh God, _thank_ God he was _breathing_. Martin’s head rolled around again and he stared at the sky above him, the sky he knew so well from every flight no matter how rotten it is in that old damn broken stupid but oh-so-beloved aeroplane, GERTI, _their_ GERTI and _damn_ , the sky was really beautiful today, especially since he could still hear the boy breathing and there were voices around him, somebody was calling his name. He blinked and looked around. His crew was huddled around him and the boy – when did they appear? Did he miss something? Well somebody had to pull him out of the river so that made sense now – and stared at Martin with a mixture out of shock, utter disbelief and... _pride_. If the sky and the fact that the kid was alive weren’t good enough yet, this did it. His colleagues – his best and only friends in the world – looking at him like that, as if they had been actually concerned that he could die and being stunned by him doing something brave, Martin just lost it. He was covering his face and laughing slightly but wiping his eyes because he just couldn’t stop crying at the same time. This day really had been the worse since long. Maybe not the worst day of his life, but seriously bad. And suddenly all of that didn’t really seem to matter anymore, because he was alive and the boy was fine and his friends where here and he knew, he just _knew_ that Simon would never have a day like this in his life and feel so complete like Martin felt right now. This moment just belonged to Martin, and he hadn’t felt better since the day he managed to land GERTI on one engine in the worst crosswind St. Petersburg had in years. He wasn’t the best pilot on earth, or the best man or the best human being. But right now he felt just glorious. Because that kid was alive and nobody died and life could be really fucking great if you wait long enough.

Later when he had come down from his high moment, Douglas’ jacked around his shoulders and his clothes drying, if slowly, he recalled what had happened after his friends had dragged him out of the water. There had been other people, running down the steps or watching from above from the bridge, abandoning their cars to check what on earth was going on. A woman ran towards them, cradling the boy and sobbing into his hair – he was called Matthew, Martin recalled, she had whimpered his name over and over –releasing her son only to hug Martin, who felt bad because he was still soaking wet and dripping stinking water on her clothes. But she didn’t seem to mind and cried into his shoulder thanking him for saving her son’s life. Martin had suddenly felt a bit ashamed. It had felt great to know the kid was alive but being treated like a hero was too new and really a bit too much for his crippled ego right now. So he had just patted her back awkwardly, telling her it was alright and that he really was no hero at all because he had reacted before he even knew and he just was glad that nobody drowned.

It took the crew some time to get her to release him and suddenly Martin had felt very tired and cold. Now, snuggled into the dry jacket of his First Officer, stuffed into his Lexus with Carolyn and Arthur he started to feel well again. Normal, this time, not hysterically great. 


	5. Epilogue

There was no newspaper article, no one announcing Martin a hero, not even a gift basket or something similar. The crew didn't react much apart from "how reckless and insane do you have to be to jump off a bridge, even if you mean well" and "you could have drowned, you know". The biggest compliment Martin got was Douglas not making any witty remarks about his soaked uniform and Arthur commenting how "brilliant" he could swim. Carolyn's only comment was that at least the Ipswich course had some positive outcome, especially since Matthrew was no life sized human grown male dummy like Adrian but smaller and easier to transport. She didn't mention that pulling out a thrashing drowning child out of the water was fairly harder than moving a dummy that didn't move. It was their way of dealing with it. A lot like parents who scold a child when it hurts itself because their own heart stopped for a moment when they thought something really bad happened to the person the held dear. Matthew's mother came by once but Martin still wasn't comfortable with her being so incredibly thankful. It was nothing, really. It was not like he had done it for her. And he didn't really did it for Matthew either. Of course, the main reason why he jumped into the water was that he didn't want a child to drown, but the actual reason why he did it had been the fact that his day was so bad that there was no way it could have been worse if it ended with him drowning in a river. And in that moment the life of the boy had been a hundred times more worth than Martin's own. It just wouldn't have been right if he lived and the child died. That is not how life should work. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair that a young child should die while a hopeless airdot Captain just walks by. And there was no way Martin would let something so incredibly unfair happen. Life wasn't fair with him often enough, it shouldn't be unfair to many others, then. 

So he thought, if he couldn't manage to fight the unfairness of his own life, he could at least make somebody else's life a little more fair. He didn't see himself as a hero, more as someone who tried to get some balance into his life. He didn't win. He never won. He didn't even win not very often, but really, never won. Ever. But this time he won. Against life, or death or unfairness it didn't matter. All that mattered was the feeling that he finally won something. And nothing or no one would ever take that from him again.


End file.
